


The Night of the Stumbling Blink

by VivArney



Series: The Blink Series [1]
Category: Wild Wild West (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5624140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivArney/pseuds/VivArney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story 1 in the Blink Series</p><p>The challenge was to write an unconventional Mary Sue story.  One story became three (at this point)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night of the Stumbling Blink

It seemed like such a simple plan.

When I left my grandmother's little house that morning, all I had to do was follow the railroad tracks to the Kinsley Co-op, turn left and walk down two blocks to the I.G.A. grocery store, buy a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread and retrace my steps to the barn my grandfather and his brothers had converted into a house almost forty years earlier. I hadn't counted on that semi startling me or the... Look, maybe I should start this another way.

* * * * *

This all happened about three years ago. I had gone with my parents, my brother, Harold and his wife, Dawn, and their kids, Joseph, who was just about to turn three, and Shawna, who had just turned one, (Christopher hadn't been born yet.) up to Kansas to visit my grandmother and my mother's other family over Memorial Day weekend. We hadn't really expected my brother and his little family to go with us, but they somehow wound up getting there before we did. I'll bet people are still wondering about that trail of dirty diapers up and down 183.

I woke up first one morning and went down the narrow, creaky stairs. The steps were tricky. so I took my time and held onto the studs and the handrail. They had once led to a hayloft that had been made into two bedrooms. One, my mother had finished with cardboard and wallpaper when she was a teenager. The other still showed the rafters and wall studs where my two youngest uncles had slept when they were kids. My grandfather hadn't even let me go up there while he was alive. He was too afraid I would fall on those rickety steps and I probably would have, too.

My folks were sleeping in the finished bedroom about a foot from the stairs so I had to go slowly. When I got to the bottom, I opened the door and went into the dining room and looked into the living room. Harold and Dawn were asleep on a blow-up mattress on the floor and the kids were on a fold-out couch right beside them. I didn't want to take a chance on waking Joseph up, he was, and still is, a little chatterbox. If he'd been awake, he'd have gotten everybody else up too, and it was still pretty early. I usually keep a weird schedule so the time of day doesn't really have much meaning to me. I sleep when I can and read constantly.

When I went into the kitchen, I opened the fridge to find that there was only a little milk and a few slices of bread and our family is notorious for going through mass quantities of both especially with Joseph and Shawna around - little kids drink alot of milk!

I decided to walk to the store, it wasn't very far. I'd stayed with my grandmother about ten summers back and I'd been to the store alone several times during the two months I'd spent with her. I didn't expect any trouble. Kinsley, Kansas is one of those tiny, "don't-blink-or-you'll-miss-it," sleepy, little towns just a few miles northeast of Dodge City. Yeah, the place where Matt Dillon and Miss Kitty lived. I can tell you one thing, though, no matter what you might have seen on "Gunsmoke," there ain't no mountains in Kansas! The whole state's just as flat as a pancake and just as colorful. I like it, though, it's quiet and still halfway stuck in the past.

I had one problem, though: I'd left my cane back in my apartment in Austin. Oh well, a look out the window made my decision for me. It was dark and gloomy and I could see better when the sky was like that than if it had been a clear, sunny day.  
I went back upstairs and picked up my big floppy straw hat, in case the sun did decide to make an appearance, the purple hip pouch that I carried my cash and other junk in, my pocket cassette player and a couple of my cassette tapes and went back downstairs. I still didn't want to wake anybody, so I went out the kitchen door, passed my parents' cars and went on down the road. I found a long stick to use as a makeshift cane, took a minute to get my bearings - the train that passed about that time, was a big help and, with the sounds of "Last Train to Clarksville" giving me a nice marching tempo, off I went.

It was an easy walk, I just followed the railroad tracks. I was about to cross the road when a semi came up and blew his air horn at me. I had been so intent on "Auntie Grizelda" that I hadn't heard him behind me before that. I jumped and down I went into a deep ditch I still can't remember ever being there before.

* * * * *

The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground. There was tall grass all around me and the sky was clear. Luckily, there was a tree, or something, blocking the sun, or I might have been in major trouble.

I felt puffs of hot air and then something warm, wet and slimy pressed itself against my right cheek. I turned to find myself staring up at a very large, very blurry, pair of hairy nostrils.  
"Oh, Uck!" I cried as I sat up. I wiped at my cheek with my T-shirt. I'd been around farm animals off and on all my life, but getting kissed by a cow is still pretty disgusting. I pushed the cow's muzzle away from me and patted her neck, talking quietly to her as I stood up. This lady still had her horns and the last thing I needed was for her to get nervous.  
I frowned. Maybe I'd been reading too many cheap novels and zines or watching too much television, but weren't you supposed to have a headache when you found yourself in a situation like this?

I shrugged and looked around. Nothing looked even halfway familiar. I bent down and felt around for my glasses. After a couple of minutes and a rather unpleasant discovery, I finally found them - under the cow's foot.

It took a bit of persuasion - a good solid whack on the tail bones with a big stick helps a lot - before I could get the old girl moving, but I finally got to my thick, dark specs. Boy, am I ever glad they invented plastic lenses! My glasses were dirty and a little bent, but it only took a bit of pressure and a little elbow grease to take care of the worst of both problems. I wanted to find some soap and water before I put them on, though, they since didn't smell all that wonderful at the moment, so I stuck them into my hip pouch.

I looked around and finally found my cassette player and headphones. Things were looking up! The cow had somehow managed to avoid stepping on them.

The cow followed me as I walked around the pasture, looking for the railroad tracks. I knew the tracks couldn't be IN the pasture - cows aren't just real intelligent and that's a good way to wind up with instant hamburger - so I had to find the fence.  
After a few minutes, I finally came across the damn thing - the hard way. I HATE BARBED WIRE!!!

I said goodbye to the cow and ducked out through the strands and immediately tripped over a railroad tie. Down I went! I heard the cow mooing. I'm not sure whether she was laughing at me, or what, but she was really making a lot of racket, so I told her to shut up.

I said a few words that would make any decent person blush, got back up again and brushed at my bright red sweat pants and purple "TELEPATHS DON'T CUSS - THEY JUST THINK DIRTY" T-shirt. I pulled a rock out of my left sneaker and looked around.

"Okay, dammit, it's Mobility Class all over again!" I said. I had been going south from my grandmother's house, so I figured I'd keep going that way. I was going to get what I was after, one way or another. I started following the tracks again.  
It seemed to take forever, but I finally got to some buildings. There still wasn't anything familiar, but buildings meant people. I was actually getting somewhere.

I passed a couple of people on horses - nothing unusual in a small farm town - and a few on foot, all in old-fashioned clothes. I didn't think anything of it. Little towns were always celebrating "Founders' Day" or "Frontier Day" or some such. Besides, it WAS "Memorial Day" weekend.

I frowned. Nothing looked right. Things weren't where I remembered them. I spotted a place that had a lot of people coming in and out of it and as I got closer, I made out a sign saying "Saloon" and smelled stale booze. This was one place I was sure to avoid. A little while later, I came across a sign reading "General Store." Both signs were pretty old fashioned and I figured that somebody had put them up as a front for Memorial Day and went into the General Store. If I needed to, I could find a phone and my dad could come pick me up.

The place was pretty dark and smelled strange. I could make out spices, grain, maybe sorghum, and other things I couldn't recognize. This was definitely not the store I remembered!

There were no cash registers clicking away and no sign of electric light anywhere! Nobody would have gone to this much trouble for a Memorial Day celebration! It was very possible that I had accidentally walked into the wrong store.

As I stood just inside the door letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, I heard a crash and smelled dill and vinegar - dill pickles? I turned to see a woman in a dark colored dress with a broken jar of what must have been the pickles on the floor in front of her. There was a funny look on her face and I figured I must have startled her when I came through the door. She disappeared into the back of the store. I figured she was going for a mop and decided to give her a hand with the mess.

I dropped down on one knee and started picking up the glass and pickles. After a few moments, I started looking for someplace to put what I had picked up already.

"Here, use this," I heard a man say as I felt a hand on my shoulder and a pan was set down on the floor beside me. I dumped the pickles and glass into it and turned to see the person who had placed the pan on the floor, before I went back to the mess.

The man was tiny, not more than four feet tall. He had a head that looked much too large for his body. He was too far away for me to make out much of his face, but he looked familiar and he had a nice smile. He wore a suit of some kind, but not a style I recognized.

"Hi," I said.

"Hello," he said. He was staring at me.

"Is she okay? I didn't mean to scare her," I said as I went back to picking up the mess.

"Antoinette will be all right. Be careful you don't cut your fingers on that glass."

Damn, why was his voice so familiar?

"I think I got most of it," I said as I straightened. Standing, I was at least twice as tall as he was. I resisted the urge to squat back down to his level. I'd had a roommate back in high school who hadn't been much taller than this man and she'd hated it when people did that.

The man frowned up at me. "Your eyes, do they always move about like that?"

I nodded. "Afraid so." I held out my hand. "I'm Vivian Arney, Iva and Joe Mehringer's granddaughter." That was the way I'd learned to introduce myself, here in Kinsley. I was a stranger, but my grandparents had lived in this little town for more than forty years.  
"Doctor Miguelito Loveless, at your service," he said and I frowned as I felt his hand disappear into my larger one. "What's the matter, Miss Arney?"

"Nothing," I said, waving the idea away. I didn't want to tell him that he had the same name as the villain on one of my favorite TV series and was about the same height. "I... just need to wash my glasses."

"Certainly, come with me," he offered, "I'll show you."

I followed the little man through the back of the store and into a kitchen, but there were no appliances. The stove was a huge black thing and blasting heat into the already hot summer air. The sink had a large black pump standing over it. My grandmother had had one of these things in her yard a long time ago, I think, but even if she hadn't, I knew that I'd seen one, or worked one, somewhere.

As I got the water flowing, Loveless clambered up into a stool beside me and put a piece of cloth and bar of soap into my hand. I pulled my specs from my pouch and after a few moments, they were finally wearable. I turned to look more carefully at the little man standing beside me. If I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn it really WAS Miguelito Loveless, but that wasn't possible. Miguelito Loveless hadn't really existed and Michael Dunn, the actor who had played him, had died years ago.

"Why do you keep looking at me that way?" he asked.

"Sorry," I apologized. Working the graveyard shift, I get enough wierd looks and comments about wearing my dark glasses at night to make me realize I might have offended him. "No offense, you just remind me of somebody I... knew a few years ago."

That seemed to satisfy the little man. I wasn't sure why I didn't want to tell him what I was thinking, it just sounded so crazy.

"Those are very unusual clothes."

I looked down and shrugged. "I'm on vacation. Are we supposed to be in costume?"

He frowned. "Costume?"

"Yeah, for Memorial Day. Don't y'all have a parade planned or something?"

He shook his head. "I don't know whether the citizens have anything planned or not, Miss Arney. Antoinette and I have only just arrived in Kinsley ourselves."

"Well, I better get back to my grandmother's place. My folks were still asleep when I left and I forgot to leave a note. We're supposed to go into Dodge City today and I promised my niece and nephew something special, if they were really good."  
As the little man led me back out through the shop, I noticed lots of things I'd missed earlier when I hadn't had my glasses. There was a calendar tacked up on one wall and I stopped briefly to examine it.

May 1877! It had to be a reproduction. I shrugged and walked back into the larger room. After seeing that calendar, though, I was looking things over a bit more carefully.

I knew that, in Dodge City, they had spent a lot of time and money to create what they called "Front Street," a museum that was supposed to be a reproduction of old time Dodge City, but the closest thing I remembered Kinsley having was "The Sod House" and I knew that was on the other side of town from my grandmother's place.

The notion that I really was back in 1877 finally started to sink in as I took a few moments to peer into cabinets made of wood and glass at straight razors, guns, knives, kerosene lamps, wicks, candles, jugs of cider and all sorts of things with antique looking labels only they were all brand new! I picked up a folded paper bag lying beside a large barrel and read the large printed letters "Arm & Hammer Saleratus?" I put down the bag and opened the hinged lid of the barrel. I stuck a finger into the fine, white powder inside. I gingerly licked the tip of my finger and tasted... baking soda! I made a face and closed the lid. "Well, I better be getting back. Thanks for letting me clean my glasses." I turned to leave, but suddenly found a very large man standing in my way.

This guy was a good head taller than I was and VERY solid looking. As I stepped closer to the door, he stepped closer to me.

"Now, be very careful, Voltaire," I heard the little man whisper. "She mustn't be harmed."

I didn't like the sound of that. "Hey, wait a minute!"

The big guy started moving toward me and I started backing away. I was doing pretty well at keeping just out of reach until I tripped over something - I'll never know what - and fell against one of the heavy wood and glass cases. My right wrist complained a bit when it got squashed between me and the case, but my left hand came down on something long, round and smooth. All right! A broom handle! (Shame on those of you with dirty minds!) My mind raced back to my Blind School P.E. teacher and the "cane-fu" she taught us. I won't get too graphic - to spare the guys - but when I hit him with the broom handle, Voltaire let out a shriek like a cat with his tail caught in a blender and dropped to his knees.

Loveless just stood there as I bolted for the still open door. I got through it and about halfway down the block before I crashed into somebody. I could tell it was a man by the way he grunted, but the sun was so bright, I couldn't tell much else just then.

"Whoa, young lady, you're in quite a hurry, aren't you?" the man said, taking my arms and trying to keep both of us from falling onto the hitching post.

I apologized to the man while my eyes took their own sweet time getting used to the brightness - they've always been rather slow to adjust to changes in lighting. I don't know how I made it that far without crashing into just this one man.

The man had taken a step or two away from me. "That's perfectly all right, young lady," he said in a soft, slow drawl. He stepped into the shade and I got my first really good look at him. He was a few inches shorter than I was, with short, dark hair that curled slightly, and dark, dark eyes - "chocolate eyes" Joseph called them. He wasn't exactly handsome, but still very nice looking. He had a neatly trimmed goatee and long sideburns that didn't seem right to me. Like the little man I'd seen in the General Store, I seemed to know him from somewhere.

"I swear, if I run into one more thing this mornin', I'm gonna be really pissed!" I muttered angrily. "I didn't do any damage, did I?"

"No, none at all," he answered, waving my concern away.

Dammit, I knew this man!! It was like getting hit by lightning!

What if the little man in the store had really been Miguelito Loveless? Could this be Artemus Gordon? No, that wasn't possible! It was like some crazy "Mary Sue" story with me as the main character! I must have made some sort of face, because he grabbed my arm and tried to keep me from falling off the boardwalk.

"Are you all right, Miss?" he asked, frowning.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, it's just been a very strange morning!"

He chuckled. "Speaking of strange..." he muttered indicating my clothing. He reached up and fingered the sleeve of my bright purple shirt. "This is very odd material."

"It's just cotton," I said, then remembered that there was probably some polyester in there too but, as crazy as it may have sounded, if it really was 1877 and I was standing under an awning talking to none other than Artemus Gordon, he couldn't possibly know anything about polyester.

"Very interesting garments, young lady," he said with a grin.  
"What is a telepath?"

"Somebody who reads minds," I answered.

He didn't even blink. "And can you?"

I wasn't paying attention, I was too busy trying to convince myself that I was really standing here talking to Artemus Gordon. "Can I what?"  
"Read minds."

I laughed. "Don't I wish! I'd love to give a couple of boneheads at work a hell of a jolt."

"I daresay it would," he laughed. "Captain Byron Cullpepper, at your service, ma'am," the man introduced himself quietly, impersonating the perfect manners of a Southern gentleman. He took my hand and it was all I could do to keep a straight face.  
I managed it somehow and, judging by his next words and the sudden warmth I felt on my face, I must have blushed.

"Ah, so, the lady's not quite as manly as her trousers would suggest," he teased, with a grin.

I plucked at my sweat pants and grinned. Women in this time didn't wear trousers, I remembered, it just wasn't done. Well, I hadn't worn a dress since my high school graduation and even then it had been under protest. I shrugged and fingered the square emblem on my hip pouch, nervously.

"You seem rather out of place, Miss..." he began and I knew he was waiting for me to introduce myself. I could hear the smile in his voice, even if I couldn't see it.

"Vivian Arney," I finally said.

"Well it's very nice to meet you, Miss Arney," Gordon said as he squeezed my hand.

The wind came up and my hat flew off my head. He snatched it out of the air and held it out to me.

I reached for it, almost missed it, then managed to get a hold of it, My hand-eye coordination has always been lousy. "Thanks, Artie," I said as I plunked it back on my head and this time looped the black string behind my ears so it wouldn't blow off again.

The look on his face told me I'd made a major mistake. He looked around us worriedly, grabbed my arm and hauled me into the alley.

"If you know who I am, then you also know better than to toss my real name around that way, especially when I'm in disguise," he hissed angrily.

His fingers bit into my arm and I winced. I ran a hand down the lower part of my face and said some words that weren't very nice. He was right, I did know better and I said so. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid mistake. Do you think anybody heard?"

He glanced around, worriedly. "I don't know. Don't you realize how dangerous.... Who the devil are you? What are you doing here?"

"I told you my name," I whispered back. "I don't know why I'm here,"

"What?"

"Nothing. Look, can we go someplace private to talk?"

He sighed and released my arm. "Miss Arney, that would hardly be proper," he said, still frowning.

The Southern gentleman Artie had been impersonating would have been more than a little scandalized by my suggestion.

"Oh, give me a break!" I snapped quietly. "This is important."

Artie looked up and down the alley, then out toward the street. A horse and wagon passed, but there was no sign of anyone nearby. He seemed to relax slightly. Finally, he tipped his hat and smiled. "Miss Arney, would you join me for lunch?" he asked, offering me his arm.

I couldn't help grinning. I put my arm in the crook of his elbow (at least, this way I was less likely to run into things!) and slipped into what I hoped was my best "Southern Belle" accent. "Why certainly, Captain, I'd be honored." I knew he was probably still pretty mad, but my playing along sure made him laugh.

He led me back into the street and into a restaurant. We took a table in the far corner away from everyone else.

I started to talk, but he shushed me as the waitress came over to take our order. The menu was up on a chalkboard across the room, so I let him order the food, but, when he suggested wine, I asked for hot tea to drink.

She went off and Artie stopped smiling.

"Now, young lady, I want the truth," he said in a quiet, serious voice. "How do you know who I am? I'm certain I've never seen you before."

"Listen, how I know you doesn't matter. Did you know Doctor Loveless is here?"

He nodded. "Yes, I'm aware of that," he told me with a sigh.  
"How would you know who he is?"

The waitress came with my tea and it gave me a chance to try to come up with an explanation for this man. I felt as though I owed him that much, but I'd read enough time travel stories to know that, if you found yourself in the past, you really shouldn't go around telling people you were from the future. The people in the past either wouldn't believe you in the first place or, if they did, they'd try to milk information from you about the future.

"You'd never believe me," I said, grinning.

"Try me."

I took a deep breath.  
He crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a stern look. "Well?"

"I wish I could tell you," I said, quietly. "but I'm not sure I should."

"And why is that?"

"I don't know exactly, but, as much as I'd like to tell you, I just know somehow that it wouldn't be a good idea. It's like it's some kind of rule or something." I smiled inwardly at that one. Good save, Arney!

Our food arrived and he was silent as we began to eat. He was obviously beginning to lose patience with me. I thought about all the things I'd seen this man and his partner, James West, do in all those episodes of "Wild Wild West" and knew he probably would believe me and he could be trusted. I took another deep breath. "Okay, you asked for it, but this isn't gonna be easy. I'm not sure I should tell you anything directly, but I'll give you a clue. Would that work?"

"Fair enough," he agreed.

I didn't really feel all that comfortable about it, but I finally slipped my hand into my pouch. I pulled out a handful of bills and coins and laid them on the table between us. "You and Jim know all about counterfeit money. Take a look at this and tell me what you think," I said and went back to my lunch.

He set down his fork and picked up the money. He pulled a small, round magnifying glass out of his vest pocket and examined it. Finally, he tucked a quarter, dime and dollar bill into his pocket with the magnifying glass, laid the rest of the coins back on the table and went back to his meal. "Point taken," he said finally.

I picked up the remaining money and stuck it back in my pouch without a word. Being able to meet Artemus Gordon was worth losing a little change.

"Will you come back to the train with me? I'd like Jim to meet you."

I shrugged. "Sure, this is a great dream, I think I'll stay here a while."

"Oh, I assure you, it's no dream, Miss Arney." He frowned. I laughed a bit.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I just hate being called Miss. Just call me Vivian, okay?"

He nodded. "Very well."

As we ate, I heard a sound behind me and turned to see two men approaching. They started to pass us, but stopped instead.

"Excuse me," one of them said in a quiet voice.  
Artie and I looked up to see a pair of very tall men standing beside the table. They were obviously father and son and both extremely handsome.

"Yes?" Artie asked.

"I have an old friend who resembles you rather closely," the older of the two men said in a soft, almost Spanish accent. He leaned down to whisper in Artie's ear, but it was still loud enough for me to hear what he said. "You wouldn't happen to know of an untalented windbag named Artemus Gordon, would you?"

Artie glared up at the man. "If I were as impudent as yourself, sir, I would certainly ask you to step outside."

I started getting nervous. The last thing I wanted was to get stuck in the middle of a fight.

The taller, older man looked concerned. "Oh, but we're upsetting your young lady."

Artie grinned. He gestured toward me. "Vivian Arney, I'd like you to meet one of my oldest and dearest friends - Sebastian de la Vega. His father and mine were correspondents for many years. I don't recognized your young friend, Sebastian."  
Artie's friend smiled and gestured toward the younger man.

"Miss Arney, Artemus, may I present my son - Diego?"  
I wasn't sure just what to say, so I just said "Hi" and kept my mouth shut for once.

"May we join you?" Sebastian asked.

"Certainly," Artie agreed. He reached up and removed his false goatee and sideburns. "I don't suppose there's any point in wearing these anymore." He stuffed the fake hair into his pocket and rubbed his now bare skin in relief.

"Are you still using the glue my father invented?"

Artie nodded. "Couldn't manage without it. How is the wily old fox, anyway?"

The other man laughed. "Still as stubborn as ever. Of course, he was devastated by Mother's death - we all were."

"Yes, Victoria was quite a lady," Artie agreed.

Sebastian's face was full of concern. "We thought for a while there, that we were going to lose him as well."

"But a visit from the new mayor changed that," Diego said, grinning.

"Oh?"

"I don't know what he told Father, but, if Toronado were still alive, I'm certain he would have taken up his sword again," Sebastian said with a soft chuckle.

I kept quiet during all this. I finished my lunch and sat quietly as they talked about old times and people they'd known - somebody named Felipe who'd died after "The War" - I assumed they meant The Civil War - a woman named Felicidad who'd had seven children - three of whom were studying to be lawyers at some college back East, somebody named Alfonso who'd been a soldier on the Union side and died at Gettysburg, a guy named Roberto who had twelve children, whose wife had died and that he was about to marry for a second time.  
After a while, the conversation switched to why the de la Vegas were visiting Kinsley. Evidently, they had come to buy some cattle and to deliver some wine from the family's vineyards. Sebastian checked his watch and made apologies. He promised to have a case of wine delivered to the train and he and his son excused themselves and left the table.

"Come on, Vivian," Artie said after a few minutes. "It's time we were getting back to meet Jim."

I stood up and he led me to the train.

"Wow!" I said as I stepped up onto the platform and followed him through the door. I ran my fingers over the design on the window. It was etched glass and even prettier than I remembered from the show.

The room inside was about twelve feet across and about that long. The windows were open and a good breeze was blowing through the car. There was a desk just inside the door, facing into the car, a pair of sofas stood back to back in the middle of the room and a pile of weighted papers covered the coffee table. There was a small table with two chairs behind the far sofa and a cabinet behind that. I knew that the pair of doors in the back wall led to some sleeping compartments, storage rooms and another parlor that had a pool table. I knew there was also a car that held a laboratory where Artie developed his marvelous devices and another that held the horses as well as a coal car before you got to the locomotive.

I looked around and grinned as Artie dropped his hat on the desk and plopped down into a chair. This was just like visiting my grandmother's house. Everything was so familiar, I felt as though I'd come here all my life.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

I ran my hand over the back of the desk chair. "Nothing. It's just like I remembered, only a little different."

"Really?" he said. "I think you'd better tell me how you know me and this car."

"It's a little weird," I said.

"As you said, it's been a weird day."  
I nodded. "You're right about that." I sat down on the sofa and took a deep breath.

It was funny, I had always thought of both West and Gordon as being fairly old, but at this moment, they were only a few years older than I was.

"Where are you from, Vivian?" Artie asked as I tried to figure out not only how to tell him what I knew, but how much to tell him.

"Austin," I blurted, before I really thought about my answer.

"Texas?" Artie asked. "You're a long way from home."

I nodded, but his distraction had done what he'd intended. I had gotten myself organized and was ready to tell him what I knew. There were a few things I couldn't tell him, but there was enough to convince him that what I was going to tell him was the truth. I told him what I remembered about the two of them and their work, what I could about Doctor Loveless and his shenanigans, and how I'd found myself here.

His eyes widened a few times, but he let me continue. He stopped me a couple of times to clarify some point or other then motioned for me to go on.

"You're right, of course, if you hadn't shown me that money earlier, I'd have found your story difficult to believe."  
"You're sure it's not counterfeit?" I asked with an ornery grin.

"Positive."

"How do you know?"

"The paper, the markings - I've seen the prototype for some of those bills."

"And me? I know I'd have a hard time believing it of somebody told me they were from the future - especially if I knew somebody like Doctor Loveless was around."

He ran a hand down his face. "I don't know exactly," he admitted. "I suppose I shouldn't believe you, but your clothing - the style, the materials - is unlike anything I've ever seen, your speech pattern isn't like anything I've heard before either and, I've been staring at that pouch of yours for nearly twenty minutes and, God help me, I'll be damned if I can make out the fastener on the blasted thing."

I couldn't help laughing. Artemus Gordon stymied by a zipper.

"May I examine it, please?"

I popped the plastic buckle on the belt and handed it across the coffee table to him.

The pouch or "fanny pack" was actually fairly large and bright purple. My best friend had given it to me the year before and I had filled it to bursting before I left Austin.

I couldn't help grinning as Artie spent a few minutes examining the zipper. He even pulled his magnifying glass out of his vest pocket and worked the tab on the larger of the two  
compartments back and forth a few times, watching the teeth mesh under the magnifying glass. He finally sighed and laid the pouch down onto the coffee table. "You know, that really is an ingenious device."

"It's just a zipper, Artie. They're on just about everything in my time."

"Incredible. I'd like to see what's inside. May I?"

I shrugged. "Why not? I've probably screwed time up pretty royally anyway." I couldn't help laughing. Leah would love this line. "What's a paradox or two between friends?"

Artie laughed too, then undid the zipper and dumped the contents of the pouch onto the coffee table.

The items he obviously recognized - my comb, little notebook, a certain feminine hygiene product (thank goodness) and money - he put off to the side. He opened the small plastic bottle of Tylenol and looked inside without touching the tablets.

He looked up at me worriedly. "Are you ill?"

"No. That's just a pain reliever."

"Like laudanum?"

"Not that strong, but you've got the right idea. It's mostly for headaches, pulled muscles, toothaches and such. I get sinus headaches sometimes."

Artie nodded and put the lid back on the bottle. He put the bottle aside and picked up a tiny tube, pulled off the top and sniffed. "Oh, that's awful!"

"Well, don't get it on your fingers or you'll really have a problem."

"It isn't labeled. What is it?"

"They call it 'Super Glue.' It dries fast and doesn't let go. I forgot to give it back to my aunt yesterday after my mom and I fixed the lid on my niece's bottle."

Artie carefully recapped the tube and set it aside.

We spent most of the next hour just like that as Artie examined the other items from my pouch: my calculator, hair balls - ponytail holders, felt tip pen, ball point pen, liquid paper and audio tapes.

He was very impressed with my tape player and headphones. He had the mechanism figured out in a moment or two, but wanted to hear some music from the future. He loved the classical music and thought Roger Whittaker was very good, but apologized for saying that he thought The Monkees were "rather noisy."

I laughed. "That's what lots of people thought back in the fifties and sixties when rock music was just starting out."

"They call it 'rock' music?"

"Short for 'rock and roll," I said. "The Monkees are actually pretty tame compared to some groups. You'd freak if you heard say Frank Zappa or Guns and Roses. Now, that's hard rock."

"Well, I'm sure you like it, but it can't be very popular."

"Wanna bet? Besides, I don't like most of the 'new' groups at all. The music on the Monkees' tapes was recorded more than twenty years ago - my time."

Artie shook his head and put the player to the side. He opened the smallest of the pouches and pulled out my keys, asthma inhaler and pocket knife.

"Don't tell me you've never seen a pocket knife before," I said. I wasn't sure they'd been invented yet, but Artie was smart  
enough to have come up with the idea.  
"Oh yes, but never one this small, or with so many other devices."

"You'd love MacGyver!" I told him and explained about the show with the guy who could get himself out of almost any situation with a bent paper clip and a handful of candy bars.

Artie laughed, but his attention was on the knife. "You know,  
Jim could really use something like this."  
"Well, go ahead and give it to him. I can get another one back home."

"You're sure?"

"Artie, I've spent half my life watching you and Jim go up against Doctor Loveless, Colonel Vautrain and the others. Now, I finally get the chance to actually meet you and maybe even work with you. Hell, if you guys can get use out of something as common as a pocket knife and I've got it, why can't I give it to you?"

Artie dropped the pocket knife onto the table and stared at me. "That's it!"

"What?"

"Vautrain."

"What about him?"

"He was experimenting with Time. But, no, he was concentrating on the past, not the future."

"But what if he left the portal open when he died?" I asked, realizing what he meant. "I mean, he did send you and Jim back."

"Or someone else was able to duplicate his findings," Artie muttered. He looked up to the clock on the mantle. "I wish Jim were here. I wonder what's keeping him."

We sat talking about Artie's theory for a while longer.

We both jumped at a sudden loud rap at the door. Artie went to answer it and returned with a small envelope. I watched  
Artie read the note and slam it down hard on the desk.

"What's the matter?"

"Doctor Loveless has Jim. He says he'll kill him if I don't deliver you to him by six o'clock tonight."

I said something very rude as Artie stood and walked over toward the desk.

"Well, aside from being anatomically impossible and potentially painful, I'm afraid your suggestion won't help much in this situation," he said with a grin. "Where did you learn language like that, anyway?"

I shrugged. "I'm an Air Force brat." At his confused look, I explained. "Like the Navy only with airplanes... um, flying machines."

He nodded, finally understanding.

I made another rather nasty comment detailing what I'd do the little genius if I ever got my hands on him and Artie laughed.

"As I said, Vivian, your views on Doctor Loveless' anatomy won't help us get Jim free. We need something else." He picked up the note again and tapped it against his knuckles absently.

I swear I could almost hear the wheels turning as he ran ideas through his mind.

Finally, he must have come to some sort of a decision, because he suddenly ah-ha'd and left the room. He returned a few moments later and put something very heavy into my hand.

"Do you know how to use one of these?" he asked as I ran my fingers over the gun and held it close to my eyes to take a good look at it. The gun was almost pretty, if you can call a gun pretty, with a shiny barrel and an ivory grip. I put it down on the coffee table and pushed it away. "Have you got a death wish or something?"

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Well, to start with, I hate guns. Besides, I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn at point blank range. I don't see so great, remember? Anything more than three feet away is pretty much a blur, even with my glasses."

"I haven't forgotten that."

"Then why are you giving a half-blind person a gun? I'd be more likely to hit you, or Jim, than whatever I'm aiming at. Besides, Loveless' people will just take it away, won't they?"

Artie grinned mischievously. "My dear, I'm counting on it," he said, pressing the gun back into my hand.

* * * * *

Artie had asked me to stay in one of the interior rooms, out of sight, while he went off to pick up what he called a "suitable outfit" for me to wear. Evidently, my T-shirt, sneakers and sweatpants had caused quite an uproar. When he got back, I watched as Artie unpacked the boxes and laid out the big, clunky shoes, a wide brimmed hat and (UGH!!) a dress. He'd also brought lace trimmed petticoats, heavy stockings and something that looked like a medieval torture device. I picked up the thing by one corner and must have made a face, because Artie laughed.

"You look as though you've never seen a corset before," he said.

Now that I knew what it was supposed to be, I wasn't about to tell him that the last time I'd seen one of these a man named Tim Curry had been wearing it while he strutted his stuff and sang a song called "Sweet Transvestite." I just shrugged instead. "If that's what I think it's for, I won't need it," I told him and showed him the strap of my bra.

Artie put the torture device off to one side and put the clothes, minus the shoes into my arms. "You'd better go get changed. I had to guess at the sizes, I hope they fit."

"We'll know in a minute."

So, twenty minutes later, I was standing, sweating, in the same spot wearing about two tons of clothes and feeling downright uncomfortable, waiting for Artie to put together a little piece of machinery.

Artie had outlined his plan for me, but I wondered whether we'd be able to pull it off. I'd seen this man and his partner pull off stranger stunts, but they hadn't had a half-blind woman from the future getting in the way.

"What's the matter?" he asked, looking up from his tinkering.

I shrugged. "I'm just a little nervous, I guess," I admitted finally and went on to tell him what was bothering me.

"You'll do fine," he insisted."I hope you're right."

"Trust me."

I sat down on one of the sofas and fiddled with the brim of the big hat.

"Will you please calm down, Vivian?"

"I'm trying, but I have a talent for what a friend of mine calls "Horrible-izing" - thinking about the worst case scenario."

"Well, stop worrying about it. It'll be... blast!" Artie suddenly dropped what he was working on and stood. "What the devil are you doing here?"

"I came for your new friend, Mr. Gordon," Loveless said as he and Voltaire entered the train.

"Where's Jim?"

"That's my business, but don't be concerned. He's still alive, for now. I haven't let Voltaire harm him, yet."

Artie gave Loveless a funny look. "You don't actually believe her crazy story about being from the future, do you?"

"Certainly. It was my invention that brought her here." He looked up at me. "Voltaire bumped the mechanism or you would have arrived in my laboratory instead of that pasture outside of town. I must admit I had my doubts when you first arrived at the General Store earlier, but that nasty trick you played on Voltaire convinced me. Few women from our time would have attempted it."

"Just be glad he didn't get hold of me. The last guy that tried that ended up in the hospital."

While I was talking, Artie made a sudden grab for the gun on the coffee table, but he never reached it. Voltaire backhanded him before Loveless could stop him. Artie let out a grunt as he fell onto the coffee table. The little table collapsed under him and he, and it, crashed to the floor.

"Voltaire, you shouldn't have done that!" Loveless snapped.

I tried to get to Artie. He was lying there so still that it scared me.

Voltaire grabbed my arm and no amount of squirming could make him let go. I even tried kicking, but the heavy skirts got in my way and the silent giant was expecting it this time and just moved out of the way.

Loveless was chuckling as he watched me try to get loose. "Oh, now, Miss Arney, that's hardly ladylike."

My response surprised the little man.  
He tsked at me. "Do all the women in your time use such language?"

I gave up squirming. I was tired and it wasn't getting me anywhere anyway. "What are you up to this time?" I asked. "Poisoning more springs? Maybe shrinking a few Indians?"

Loveless frowned. "So, Mr. Gordon has told you about me, has he?"

"Not really, but I remember enough about your shenanigans to  
know you must have come to Kinsley to cause trouble for somebody."

"How do you know about me?"

"That's my business."

"Well, you won't get away from me this time. I have so many questions about the future."

"What if I can't answer them?"

"Oh, I'm sure you know enough to help me. Bring her, Voltaire."

"What about Artie? He hasn't come to yet."

Loveless looked from me to where Artie was still lying in a pile on top of what was left of the coffee table. "Very well, Miss Arney, do what you can for him. I'm sure your medical knowledge is much more advanced than ours."  
I glared at him. "I know a little."

"Well, do what you can, but no tricks or Voltaire might not be so gentle. That was a terrible thing that you did to him, by the way."

"Serves him right," I snapped. "but if you'll let me check on Artie, I promise I won't try anything."

Voltaire let go of my arm and I went over to Artie. It took a minute to get him turned over onto his back. There was broken glass on the carpet and I didn't want to roll him into it. I'm not a doctor, but I know some first-aid and I know a bad cut when I see it and there was a real nasty one over Artie's right eye. There was a lot of blood on his face. I looked around for something to clean it up with and finally saw one of the extra petticoats that Artie had gotten for me. It hadn't fit, but it would definitely come in handy now. When I stood to get it, though, Voltaire grabbed for my arm again.

"Lay off, Frankenstein!" I snapped. "I'm just tryin' to get that petticoat off the sofa."

Loveless waved Voltaire away and handed me the petticoat.

Those damned skirts Artie had insisted I wear got in the way half a billion times and I promised myself that I'd find a way to get back into my sweatpants and T-shirt as soon as I got the chance. It only took me a few minutes to make a bandage and sure it didn't look all that great, but it was a pretty good bit of MacGyvering. I just hoped it would help. Artie still hadn't moved on his own. I kept remembering how upset I'd been when I'd heard Ross Martin had died ten years earlier.

But this wasn't Ross Martin, it was Artemus Gordon and he was very much alive, at least for the moment.

"That's enough," Loveless said finally. "It's time we were going."  
I stood up and picked up the small carpet bag Artie had given me to keep my clothes and other stuff in. Artie had managed to slip a few cleverly hidden tricks into the bag as well, hoping I'd somehow be able to get them to Jim. I didn't see Loveless shove the needle through that damned dress and into my leg, but I sure felt it. I suddenly got very dizzy and my legs felt like lead. A moment later, I joined Artie on the floor and felt glass poking into my arms and shoulders just before my eyes slammed shut without any orders from me.

* * * * *

I woke up with a monster headache. I was lying on some sort of bed or cot. The place was pretty dark and smelled funny - like coal smoke and kerosene, the way my grandmother's place had smelled back when she had that huge, coal stove in the dining room when I was little, before my folks got her that gas heater. (How many times had I run into that big, black, coal burning monster when I was little and wasn't watching where I was going? I can still hear my grandfather yelling at me to stay away from that "dad burned thing.")

'Well, at least, they let me keep my glasses,' I thought as I sat up. BIG MISTAKE!!! "Damn!" I said and dropped my shoulders back down onto the cot.

"Well, it's about time you woke up. You gave me quite a scare, you know. It's all right, I won't hurt you," a voice said quietly from a point off to my left. "You'd better lie there for a few more minutes, Miss..."

I frowned. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Why did Doctor Loveless bring you here?" the man asked.

"He wants something," I said, squirming around as I tried to get a look at him.

"You'll feel better if you lie still for a while," I heard him advise as he came closer. I tried to sit up again, but I felt his hands pushing down on my shoulders.

I turned my head to get a better look at him and took a deep breath to keep from saying something incredibly stupid. It was definitely James West. He was small, well built and looked almost like Robert Conrad. There were a few differences, but nothing major. He looked a little worried and tired, but he was very handsome, and still had that killer smile. He was bare-chested and, after a moment, I realized he wore only his tight trousers.I sat up and this time he didn't push me back down. My head had finally stopped hurting and I was glad of that. Here I was, stuck in a stuffy little room with a man I'd known since I was fourteen as a character on a hokey sixties TV show that was part western - part James Bond clone with no idea how I had gotten there or how I was going to get back. Not to mention that he was half-naked and gorgeous!

"Hi, Jim," I said. "Are you okay?"

"For the moment. Do I know you?"

"Not exactly." I introduced myself, but before I could tell him Artie's plan, he shushed me. "You think Loveless is listening?" I asked.

"What do you think?"

I nodded. "He's listening."

Jim grinned and I heard a chain rattle. I stood up and looked around. It was then that I noticed the heavy chain going from a small hole in the floor to Jim's right leg. "He got all your toys, huh?"

West nodded but didn't say anything for a moment. "How did you get mixed up with Doctor Loveless?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure, but he says he's the one that brought me here and I'm beginning to believe him." I walked over to the door and kicked it, hard - those clunky shoes Artie had bought for me came in handy for a change. "Hey, Loveless, I want my clothes!" I yelled.

After a few minutes, the door opened and Loveless came in with Voltaire.

"Have you decided to cooperate?"

"Maybe - depends on what you want to know."

"Who will be President after Ulysses S. Grant?"

"You got me.

"You weren't taught History?" Loveless asked, incredulously.

I shrugged. "Sure, everybody studies History, but that was ten years ago. I can't remember. The only ones I know are from the 1940's on and I'm not all that sure of anybody before 1960."

"Who was President the day I brought you here?"

"A real old goomer named Reagan. He used to be an actor. I've seen a couple of his movies - they weren't so great. Why all the questions about the Presidents?"

"That's my business."

"I can tell you the answer to that question," West volunteered.  
"He wants control of the United States. In fact, I'm surprised you're being so secretive, Doctor, you usually waste time gloating about how clever your latest plan is."

"I do not 'gloat', Mr. West!" Loveless snapped.

I couldn't help grinning. "So, what is he up to, tryin' to kill off the next President before the election so he can put somebody in office who'll give him back his half of California?"

"How do you know that?" Loveless snapped.

"Don't freak! That's what you're always after, isn't it?"

Loveless frowned. "You know all about me, yet you don't know anything about your own country's history?"

"Sure I do. I spent a lot of time studying up on the Civil War, World War II and Ancient Egypt, but I never could get much into politics - it's pretty boring stuff. My teachers used to give me terrible grades in that. Now, if you had kidnapped one of my old classmates from the Blind School you might have gotten somewhere, but it looks like you're stuck with me."

Loveless made a terrible noise and stormed out of the room, followed by Voltaire. After a few minutes, Voltaire opened the door again and threw the little carpet bag onto the floor and slammed the door again.

West frowned as I went over to pick it up. "I'm not so sure you should be...."

His warning came too late. When I opened the bag, a puff of smoke came out and went right into my face.

* * * * *

"Damn!" I said as I woke up again. "I should have known better than to trust you, you little jerk." I tried to get up but discovered I was tied down to a heavy table in another room.

This one had white walls and was very bright.

Loveless was standing on a stool off to one side and Jim was chained to a table not far away. There was a bad cut on Jim's right arm and I guessed he'd tried to get away, but hadn't managed it.

"Now, Miss Arney, I don't usually resort to these methods, but I need information that only you can give me. Why won't you answer my questions?"

"She told you, she doesn't know," Jim said.

Loveless whirled on his stool. "She knows, Mr. West, and she's going to tell me."

"I don't know who's President after Grant," I repeated.

"Well, perhaps knowing the candidates names will help you remember. There are presently three men campaigning for office: Mr. Rutherford B. Hayes, Mr. Raymond Sharp and Mr. Samuel J. Tilden. Of the three, Mr. Hayes is most qualified to hold office."

"Then why do you need me?"

"He's trying to hedge his bets," Jim said from the other table.

"Now, Voltaire," Loveless said quietly and I heard a buzzing sound and Jim groaned.

"What was that?"

"Just a little device I created. It works on the principle of electricity. A small charge applied to various parts of the body can induce either intense pain or pleasure. Each time you refuse to answer my questions, Mr. West will pay for your stubbornness. Do you understand?"

"You slimy little..." I tried to get up, but the straps on the table held me down. I heard another buzz and a groan from Jim and settled down fast. This wasn't fun anymore. "How are you gonna know I'm not lying?"  
Loveless held up a collection of wires. "This table has been designed to detect lies. Now, shall we continue?"

I shrugged and hoped Artie would get here soon.

Loveless' questions were pretty simple and I was able to answer some of them. He wanted to know about certain inventions and which were still around in my time and which weren't. I lied once about something and Jim made a terrible noise so I didn't try it again. The only question I still couldn't answer was the one about the Presidents and he kept shocking Jim.

Jim kept telling me, I shouldn't tell, but I kept hearing that buzz and the noises Jim was making didn't sound good. In fact, Jim started making less and less noise, his head dropped to his chest and I got really worried. I finally said it would be Sharp and, miraculously, the table agreed with me.

Loveless let out a happy giggle and left the room. Voltaire stayed behind and after a while we heard a bell and the giant left the room, too.

"Jim, are you okay?" I asked, but I didn't get an answer. Now, I really was scared. Artie's plan hinged on Jim being able to help us.

After a long time, I heard a loud bang, but almost before I could wonder what it was, Artie, Sebastian and Diego burst into the room. Artie went straight to Jim while Sebastian and Diego came over to undo the straps on my arms and waist.

I hopped off the table and went over to Jim and Artie. "Is he okay?"

Artie nodded. "I think so. No thanks to Loveless."

"Loveless? Where is he?" Jim asked groggily.

Artie helped Jim sit up on the table. Jim looked a little fuzzy, but all right. "Just take it easy, Jim. The Sheriff and his men have Loveless, Voltaire and Antoinette in custody."

West looked at up me. "You told."

"I had to, Jim," I admitted.

"Shouldn't have told him..." he mumbled as Artie and Sebastian helped him down off the table. "He'll..."

"It doesn't matter what she told him, Jim," Artie insisted. "He can't use any of the information she gave him."

"What? Why not?"

"Come on, Jim, let's get back to the train. You're too dazed to understand right now. I'll explain in the morning."

Artie and Sebastian half-carried Jim out of the room and Diego and I followed. I didn't know what Artie meant, either, but I decided to wait to find out. I didn't like the way either of them looked just now. Artie's movements were a bit stiff, like it was taking a lot out of him to even stand up. He must have done more than just bump his head on the coffee table and Jim didn't look much better.

The de la Vegas went with us back to the train and Artie put Jim to bed. It was almost midnight by this time and Sebastian insisted that he and Diego would stay on the train and he ordered Artie to bed, as well. I couldn't believe how tired I was, so I crashed on one of the twin sofas, Diego took the other and Sebastian kept watch.

When I woke up, the sun was in my eyes. Diego was sitting at the small table playing Solitaire and Sebastian was sprawled on the other sofa. I got up and sat down to play cards with Diego until the others woke up. Diego whispered that he'd checked on Jim and Artie and they'd looked a bit better. Evidently, Voltaire had whacked Jim on the head when they kidnapped him and he had a nasty lump on his head.

I said something about wanting my clothes and he pointed to the desk. My T-shirt, sweatpants, hip bag, hat, socks and sneakers were all laid out neatly over the chair. I picked my shirt and pants up and went into the other room to change. As soon as I had them on, though, I came back into the parlor.

Sebastian was awake and I plunked down on the sofa across from the table to put on my socks and sneakers.

"Good morning," Artie said as he walked in about the time I  
was tying my shoes. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better than you are, by the looks of it."

"It's just a headache. It'll pass."

"How's Jim?"

"Fine. He's still a little groggy. I think he may have a slight concussion, but he'll recover."

"That's good."

Artie sat down on the sofa beside me. "Listen, Jim told me what happened in Loveless' laboratory. I have to admit, I had my doubts as to whether you'd be able to carry out our plan, but you did a very good job."

"No, I screwed up. I should have known Loveless would plant something in the bag."

"It was my smoke bomb you set off in the carpet bag," Artie admitted. "I was hoping to get Loveless with it, but... I'm surprised he didn't search it before he gave it back to you."

"Don't worry about that. What did you mean when you said it didn't matter what I'd told Loveless?"

Jim walked in just in time to hear that one and he joined Sebastian on the other sofa. "Yes, Artie, what did you mean by that?"

Artie looked up. "Jim, you should still be..."

"Don't worry about me. Answer the question."

Artie shrugged. "Just that I suddenly remembered one of the first things Vivian told me."

"What?" I asked.

"You said that, in your time, Jim, Loveless and I are all fictional characters in a... What did you call it? A television series?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's called "The Wild Wild West." It's one of my favorites - has been for about seventeen years, or so."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Jim, that means that what happens here doesn't have any bearing on her world at all. Doctor Loveless thought he was opening a door into the future of OUR world, but he got  
Vivian's world instead."

"Then which world is the real one?" Diego asked.

"Both, I think," Artie said. "For us, this world is real, for Vivian, and the other people in her world, theirs is the real world."

"Like the business with the paintings." Jim said.

"Exactly. Loveless has been experimenting with different dimensions for several years. He just hasn't perfected it."

"Incredible," Sebastian muttered. "I had no idea your job could be so fascinating, Artemus."

"Wow!" I said. "So, how do I get back?"

"That's where things get tricky. We managed to salvage Doctor Loveless' machine, but I'll have to study it and learn to operate it before I'll be able to send you home. That is, if you want to go home. I'd almost be willing to make a Secret Service agent out of you."

"It's a great offer, Artie, but I've got stuff I've got to do. I've got to pass on 'the dreaded reading disease' to a certain niece and nephew, I've got some really good friends in the little "Star Trek" fan club I joined about five years ago and besides, I've already got a job."

"Well, from some of the things you've told me, you don't seem to enjoy it very much," Artie said quietly.  
"It's not the work I hate, it's the drunks, sluts and bimbos I have trouble with. Most of the other employees are pretty screwy, but some of them are really great."

Artie laughed. "Sounds normal."

"Anyway, I might write this up one day and publish it - nobody would believe it, of course - but I'll have a lot of fun telling the story, on paper at least."

The others laughed and, since everybody was about  
half-starved, we went off in search of food.

* * * * *

Jim and I found out at breakfast that it was the de la Vegas who found Artie, still unconscious, when they came to deliver the wine Sebastian had promised Artie back at the restaurant.  
Sebastian did what he could for Artie while Diego ran for the town doctor.

As soon as the doctor had come, seen to Artie and left again, Sebastian demanded to know what had happened. He knew all about Artie's position with the government and that certain details had to be kept secret, but Artie was also one of his oldest friends.

Artie had been reluctant, at first, but had finally explained.Sebastian had been surprised, but asked what he and his son could do to help.

Since they weren't sure just how much of Artie's plan Loveless might had found out, they decided to scrap it and come up with another one.

So, while Jim and I were sitting around in Loveless' little room, Artie, Sebastian and Diego were hard at work. They'd gone to the Sheriff and, with his help and help from his deputy and some of the townspeople, they'd come after us with all sorts of bombs and other nasty tricks to make Loveless think an army had come after him. The explosions we'd heard had been enough to make the little man finally surrender when it was obvious he was outnumbered and it had been Antoinette who'd told them where to find Jim and me.

* * * * *

The next evening, Jim and Artie invited Sebastian and his son to join us for dinner at the little restaurant. We were all a little down because Loveless, Voltaire and Antoinette had somehow managed to escape from the jail. We knew they hadn't used the time converter to get away, because it was tucked safely away aboard the train.

Artie had figured out most of the controls and planned to send me back to my own time within the next couple of days.

"Well, I'd hate to send you farther back in time," Artie said to explain the delay.

Sebastian laughed. "Say to 1692 Salem Massachusetts."

I took a sip of water. "Could be fun. One of the women - I won't say lady, because she isn't one - where I work is convinced I'm a card carrying, pentacle wearing, cauldron stirring witch."

Jim gave me a funny look. "You're joking, of course."

I shook my head. "No, she swears I put a hex on her. She fell in the mud about five minutes after I warned her to be careful about the mud."

"What's so odd about that?" Diego asked. "I'd be glad if someone warned me about a mud bath."

I lowered my head and fiddled with the rim of my glass. "It wasn't raining when I warned her. It only started raining AFTER I warned her. She's very superstitious." I shrugged. "I just like pushing her buttons."

"Pushing her buttons?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, like you and Artie do with Loveless. Pretending you aren't curious what he's up to and then making fun of him when he does tell you."  
"Well, here's to pushing buttons," Sebastian said, raising his glass.

After everybody had taken a sip of whatever they were drinking, Artie put down his glass and frowned at me.

"What?"

"You weren't "pushing buttons" with Doctor Loveless, were you?"

"No way, man," I assured him. "Pushin' buttons is okay when it's just some idiot you work with. I'm not crazy enough to try something like that on somebody dangerous like Loveless. I don't know him well enough. Besides, that Voltaire's got a grip like a power vise and he had Jim. I'm not that crazy."

"I'm glad to hear that," Jim said, grinning.

* * * * *

A few days later, Artie did finally send me back and managed to do it so well, that nobody even knew I'd left. I went from the train to the tracks just south of my grandmother's house and went on to the store. I didn't get everything I'd planned at the store, because I'd left some of my money back with Artie, but I got the bread and milk and got back to find everybody up and drinking coffee around the table. There was a loaf of bread and a quart of milk sitting on the table and Joseph was chattering up a storm as he dug into his cereal.I heard an excited "Bibi!" as I came into the dining room. I sat down, put the bread and milk I'd bought down on the table and got a squirming armful of three year old as a trade. Shawna tried to get into my lap too, but, as usual, Joseph pushed her away.  
"No, Shawna, that's MY Bibi!" he insisted.

I reached down and picked Shawna up anyway and gave them both a good squeeze. I couldn't believe how much I'd missed these two.

My mom came out of the bathroom about that time holding another loaf of bread and laughed.

"Missy, you didn't have to go to the store, Mom has about twelve loaves of bread and a half dozen things of milk in the freezer."

I shook my head and laughed. All that for nothing. I didn't tell them what had happened, because, like I told Artie, they'd never believe me anyway.

We did go to Dodge City that morning and, even though it stayed dark and gloomy, we still had a great time.

I never forgot the days I'd spent back in that alternate past with Jim, Artie, Sebastian, Diego and Doctor Loveless, but I'm glad I came home, because now I have another nephew to play with and pass "the dreaded reading disease" on to.


End file.
